


Feel it Coming

by coffeehousehaunt



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: BLT - Freeform, CopDoc - Freeform, Copdoccubus - Freeform, F/F, Valkubus - Freeform, beer and pizza, doccubus, prompt, video games - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeehousehaunt/pseuds/coffeehousehaunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all goes better in their heads: Bo having relationships with other people, the agreements, Lauren coming over--Wait, when was she supposed to come over?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel it Coming

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: BLT and/or CopDoc. Lauren and Bo come to an agreement regarding Bo needing to feed from Tamsin. All goes well until Tamsin and Lauren get their nights mixed up and end up at the the clubhouse on the same evening before Bo arrives home. Not sure what ensues. Hopefully naughtiness. (I've never prompted before - hope this works). 
> 
> This is going to be continued in another piece, with a BLT threesome. I could write 10k of pure smut for these three, but I figured I'd spread it out over two separate pieces. 
> 
> For Vunderbarh.
> 
> The title is from "Like the Wind" by Nonono.

Lauren's not sure what to expect when she opens the door of the clubhouse. It's been a few weeks since she's been here--come to think of it, closer to a few months. Having betrayed the Dark and the Light in a rather spectacular fashion makes it dangerous to show her face in town at all. She hasn't been back since--

Well, since right after Kenzi died. 

The door creaks ominously--did the hinges always squeak like that?--and so do the floorboards. Lauren's leg muscles twitch with every drawn-out groan. 

Or maybe she's projecting. God, it's not much warmer in here than it is outside, and it's late fall in Toronto. Does Bo actually _live_ here anymore? Sure, there's a light on over by the TV, but she doesn't remember the last time she's seen it this... Dingy. And that's saying something. 

And are those the takeout boxes left over from right after Kenzi died? There was a week or two of utter chaos where Lauren and Dyson were the only ones keeping people fed; Dyson didn't eat much, himself, and he was sometimes sidetracked between Tamsin and Bo, who wouldn't talk to each other. But Lauren managed to drag him away from all of it for a few minutes at a time, just to give him some space. He's not so good at grieving, but being useful seemed to help. Lauren locates one of their space heaters and turns it on, notes the thick layer of dust on it and brushes it off before she sets anything on fire. 

... And those boxes on the counter are growing some _fascinating_ colonies. Did Bo accidentally eat one and die? How did she _not_ accidentally eat one and die? Lauren sets down her bag, pulls out a pair of surgical gloves--shut up--and gingerly starts picking up cardboard that's growing blackish moss and plastic filled with a low level of greenish-translucent liquid. It doesn't smell until she moves it, and then it's almost enough to make her gag. _It's just an experiment gone wild. Just... Really wild. Are there Fae-variant molds on here?_

She's tying off the first bag when she hears footsteps nearly thundering down the stairs. She freezes. Tamsin pulls a sword, and also freezes. 

"Hi?" Lauren offers, all too aware of the way she's hefting the trash bag like it's a deadly weapon. Well, it _could_ be. Tamsin's chin rises. Finally, she nods and lowers her sword. There's a tension on her face that Lauren can't place--not that she's all that familiar with Tamsin--the lines of her face look the same, but they've set, kind of like cement. 

"The gloves?" Tamsin asks, nodding pointedly at Lauren's hands. 

"I keep a few pairs in my bag. Just in case." Tamsin's eyebrows rise to about her hairline, and Lauren can feel her ears heat. 

"Right." She looks her up and down. "Thought you weren't getting in til tomorrow." 

Lauren can feel her eyes narrow at that, but she manages to keep it just to that. She doesn't care nearly as much about Bo's feeding habits or partners as much as she did before they broke up the first time--if they made it through that still wanting whatever it is they have, they can make it through damn hear anything--but she doesn't like Tamsin's tone. Sure, it's mild enough. But there's something about it, and an almost dismissive look as her gaze rakes over her--

Well, she is holding a bag of trash like she might use it as a weapon. Still, she stands her ground. "I told Bo I was getting in tonight." She's pretty sure she did, anyways. 

Tamsin looks at her, still skeptical, and there's a standoff for a long moment as both of them wait for the other to reach for their phone, to check the calendar, to call Bo. Lauren's sure as hell not going to. 

Finally, Tamsin shrugs and says, "Whatever. I'm gonna watch some TV."

The muscles in her arm are starting to rebel. "I'm--gonna go take this trash out." 

Tamsin nods skeptically, sideyeing the trash bag. "You do that." She says, and starts to turn away. She stops, though, and turns back to Lauren, a faint line creasing her forehead. "Um, I'm gonna watch _LOST_. If you wanna--y'know." She finishes the sentence by shrugging awkwardly, sword still in hand. 

Lauren blinks at that. She's not sure why she's so surprised that Tamsin has manners--oh, wait, she is. "Sure! Uh, sure." 

She's still better at hiding it than Tamsin is. 

Which is why she'll watch _LOST_ with her. 

* * *

She helps herself to a beer first, though. 

Lauren's seen _some_ of _LOST_ \--Kenzi and Bo went through a phase with it right before everything went to hell. They stopped watching--well, either because it got boring or because of Bo's Dawning. Right around the same time. Lauren crashed in on a couple episodes, but didn't really get what was going on. Except for the pretty ladies. All of whom seemed perfectly straight, so she couldn't get interested enough to stick with it. 

Now, she gets what's going on, but she can't make herself care. Every time she starts to fall into the story, she gets a prickle up her spine and has to look at the door to make sure no one's coming through it. When they finish the episode and Tamsin frowns and says, "That's a little bit too much like my life right now", Lauren's still not entirely sure what happened, and kind of relieved that she doesn't have to pretend that she knows; she hastily agrees. 

Tamsin pops back into the Netflix queue and flips through it, muttering to herself: "Boring, boring, watched it--boring..." Finally, she glances over at Lauren--not too long, though. "You interested in anything?" She holds up one index finger as if to ward her answer off. "Not Grey's Anatomy. _I_ can do better surgery than that." 

Lauren snorts--the image of Tamsin _trying_ to perform surgery is laughable, until she realizes she's probably talking about triage. Still, it gives her a moment to think. For being about to judge Tamsin for not asking her preference, Lauren's caught completely off-guard by the question. "Um." She picks the first thing that springs to mind. "Have you seen _Xena_?" 

Tamsin makes a noncommital face and shrugs. "Nah. Might as well, though." 

Halfway through the first episode, Lauren catches Tamsin's brow furrowing again. As it deepens, there's a little niggling spark of worry--Tamsin looks at the TV downright suspiciously, like she can't quite believe what she's seeing. Maybe she doesn't understand the concept of camp? 

Finally, Tamsin looks so completely skeptical of what's going on that Lauren takes pity on her. She probably just doesn't get it. "Too weird?"

Tamsin snorts, half-waves distractedly. "You should've seen me when Kenzi tried to show me _Troy_. No, I--Old memories. They're tricky." She shoots Lauren a smile that's a little wilted around the edges. "D'you play video games?" She offers, and Lauren's chest aches inexplicably. 

Tamsin's been so much nicer to Lauren than Lauren's been to her. Tonight, at least. 

" _You_ play video games?" Maybe this Tamsin is worth getting to know. 

Tamsin rolls her eyes. "Who d'you think raised me, Trick?" 

"Fair point." Lauren gets up--she needs another beer anyways. "Where d'you keep..." She motions at the TV. Tamsin points to a stack of cases in the low stand under the lamp. Lauren crosses over and crouches down, picking through them. 

She twists around, holding one up, incredulous. "Assassin's Creed: _Black Flag_?" The plastic wrap's still on it. It's been on her list of games to play since she knew it was coming out. 

Tamsin's face shutters, but not before that pained look chases itself across her features again. "It's Kenzi's." 

Now that she looks at it, there's a layer of dust on it. She can see her own fingerprints--she's the only one who's touched this, maybe since it was bought and set here. Her chest thumps painfully with the sudden sensation of having touched something she wasn't meant to, throwing a rock into water that shouldn't be disturbed. "Oh." She puts it back where it was as hurriedly as she can, even pushing the stack a little sideways--just like it was before--but the whorls of her fingerprints stay. Spread. 

A couple more down, she can see a two or three versions of _Tomb Raider_ , but she doesn't want to touch the stack again. She turns back with the only other available option, left on top of the stand itself, and offers a smile that has to resemble the pained grimace Tamsin gave her earlier. It's hard not to--she recognizes the hardness that's settled over Tamsin's features, now. "Halo?" 

* * *

Halo was definitely the right choice. 

The only sounds are the click of the controllers and muttered curses, and they're only breaking for beer. They've fallen into a rhythm: insult each other, swig, mag dump. Generally kick each others' ass. Repeat. It's wonderfully cathartic. 

"Aw, you fucker!" Tamsin swears as Lauren drops her again. Call her crazy, but it almost sounds like a compliment. 

Lauren turns and runs for the next checkpoint. "You have no idea." Tamsin respawns and hightails it after her. When she gets close enough, she pulls her sword out and jumps, flipping. Lauren rolls, but still takes a glancing hit. Tamsin comes after her with a vengeance, but Lauren's better at this game. Lauren almost, _almost_ makes it to the checkpoint first; Tamsin just gets lucky. A few reversals later, she's down. 

Tamsin laughs, and it snaps her out of the game for a moment; it's dark and throaty and visceral, with her lips curled up over her teeth and her mouth half-open, eyes bright and focused, and Lauren doesn't even care that she lost this round. There's just the game, and that light. 

A light flickers off to her right, on the arm of the couch. Lauren's phone vibrates--Bo--and suddenly, she remembers what's really going on here. _Ha_ , she thinks. _The doctor scores._ Totally her night. 

"Hey babe." She says, maybe a little too loud, eyes flickering over to Tamsin, and there's a flare of _something_ , but she thought it'd be stronger, feel more like _winning_ , at the slight furrow that appears in Tamsin's brow when she realizes it's Bo, the vulnerability that flashes through her eyes--there's just this _absence_ \--

"Hey." Bo's voice purrs into her ear before she has a chance to really parse her reaction, and Lauren knows that something's up. Something's always up when she uses _that_ voice. But, she's not panicking or crying, so all it means is delay and maybe mild worry. She finds that bothers her so much less than it used to, these days. "So... I'm gonna be a little late. Trick is being Trick and taking all night and there's a bunch of Light Fae bullshit he wants me to help with. Make it in, like, half an hour?" Lauren can _hear_ Bo wince at that estimate. 

Lauren makes a mental note for two hours, rolls her eyes at Trick, and forces her most good-humored tone. "Of course, babe. I'll see you then." 

"Awesome." The relief in Bo's voice practically fills the clubhouse through the phone. "How are you? Did you get in safe?" 

"Yeah! Yeah, I made it fine. Tamsin and I are... hanging out. Playing Halo." 

"Oh." Bo sounds shocked, then like she remembers something: "Oh! Shit! She probably thinks you're coming in tomorrow!" 

"Yeah, I... figured that out." 

"Shit, I am so sorry." She can hear Bo rustling through something--paper?--on the other end of the line. "I'll be there as soon as I can, babe. See you then?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, see you then." As far as these things go, it's not too bad, she has to remind herself. They've been waiting to see each other for weeks. They can wait a little longer. 

"Love you, babe." Bo's voice softens. 

"Love you, too." Lauren suddenly doesn't want to say that too loudly, in front of Tamsin. That look might come back, and Lauren's reaction to it has definitely coalesced into guilt. 

Tamsin's phone vibrates a moment later, and she gets up and goes into the kitchen to answer it. Lauren can still hear her, but she pretends not to. Fiddles with the controller awkwardly. There's this thing she can do where she can make her avatar look like she's dancing--they cast a man for the voice, but no one _really_ knows what's under that armor--

"Hey, so I'm gonna order pizza." Tamsin's voice carries from over by the fridge, distracted and faint but definitely not directed at the phone anymore. _Is she talking to me or the beer?_ "There something you want on it?" 

Lauren rolls with it like Tamsin's talking to her, but she could be wrong. "Um--anything's fine!" She calls back over her shoulder, then remembers. "But no mushrooms, please?" 

"Ew." Tamsin reappears, beer in hand, focused on dialing on her phone. She shrugs her hair back over her shoulder and slides the phone against her ear, brow furrowed, and the beer must be hitting Lauren harder than she realized (what is she, three in now? Four?), because she sort of forgets what she's doing and winds up staring at the slight dimple in her forehead that she somehow managed to miss before, mesmerized, until she catches herself. 

"Pizza should be here in fifteen." She says when she hangs up. 

"Good. Now get your ass back over here so I can kick it." 

"Psh. You wish." 

* * *

Three beers and most of the pizza later, Tamsin's being a brat. Spawncamping, and stealing all the rare weapons that Lauren finds first, because she's better at the game. 

"Dick move!" Lauren protests as Tamsin grabs another off her character's body. 

Tamsin snorts. "Our team's still winning." They're playing on the same team now. Lauren's not sure when that happened, but it's a thing. 

"Still a dick move!" 

"You'll find another." 

"Yeah, and then you'll steal it from me again! Give me that!" Lauren lunges for the controller in Tamsin's hands as she respawns again, and Tamsin tries to twist away, but she's laughing, they're both a little loose from the beer, and Lauren means it. 

When Tamsin realizes Lauren's actually wrestled it away from her, she barrels into her, vexed at being wrestled down by a human, while Lauren leans back and holds it over her head. "Jesus fuck, Doc," she laughs as Lauren stretches back from her reaching fingertips, and then Tamsin's hand slips off its position on the back of the couch, and she falls down against Lauren, knocking the breath out of both of them. 

"God, are _all_ Valkyries this klutzy?" Lauren teases when she gets air back into her lungs, still holding the controller out of reach. Their faces are inches from each other's, Tamsin's warm and solid and lying square on her chest, and Lauren's going to see an afterimage of bright blue-green behind her eyelids when she blinks. If she ever blinks again. Tamsin makes a face at her, this thing where she scrunches her nose somewhere between indignation and distaste, and Lauren giggles out loud, because it's the most unexpectedly adorable thing she's ever seen. 

That seems to surprise Tamsin, because she pulls back, eyes wide, perplexed. And for a moment, they're just hanging there, Tamsin's face flushed, hints of a smile still on it, fading fast, bright-eyed and open. The word that comes to mind is _exquisite_. Reflexively, Lauren raises one hand to Tamsin's face. 

She almost says it-- _my god, you're beautiful_ \--but her lips find Tamsin's before the words can sneak out, and that's probably a good thing. Because Tamsin--

"Was that okay?" She asks, because Tamsin is a lot more still than she ever would have expected. "Is this okay?" 

Tamsin's eyes open, dazed, uncertain, and Lauren's going to be seeing sunspots. Tamsin makes a face that's probably supposed to be a scoff, but Tamsin looks almost shocked. Stunned, actually. "Seriously?" 

"Seriously." 

Tamsin's eyes flicker down to Lauren's mouth, and it takes every ounce of self-control she has--admittedly, she has next to none, right now--to not just lean up and kiss her again. There's that furrow in Tamsin's brow again as she looks down at her, and she lifts one finger and runs it across Lauren's lower lip, like she can't decide what to do with it, and _fuck_ , Lauren could hold still for _years_ for that look--

Tamsin surges down and presses her mouth to Lauren's again, roughly. Oh, thank god. Lauren opens her mouth and collides with her. 

Lauren's amazed. For someone whose lifetimes stretch thousands of years, she kisses so _young_. And like she's used to kissing men; blunt and open-mouthed. 

Not that it's a turn-off. If anything, it's a turn-on; there's no real urgency to this, no incredible passion or hunger like there is with Bo. She can feel her, take her time--put her together, take her apart. 

Tamsin is so many things she never really thought about: she's on top, all bravado, holding herself up on fists or fingers curled in the material of the couch, but she's all uncertainty against Lauren's mouth, and Lauren takes her time tasting it, sliding one hand up her neck, fingers along Tamsin's pulse. When she traces her fingertips down Tamsin's jaw, guiding, and Tamsin lifts her jaw just a hair; when Tamsin slows to match her--Lauren knows she's won. 

She can hold her there, just like that, with just the pressure of her fingers on her jaw, so she does, feeling the liquid shift of her muscles, her pulse. Finally, Lauren slides her palms along her cheeks, tangles her fingers in her hair, and pulls Tamsin closer. She rakes her nails down Tamsin's chest, over her collarbone, and Tamsin growls against her mouth, slides her fingers into Lauren's hair, and drops her hips down against Lauren's; up her abs under her shirt, and Tamsin bites Lauren's lower lip. It's not that she's _trying_ to be rough; it's just that Lauren doesn't think Tamsin understands what gentle is. Tamsin gasps and grinds her hips against Lauren's when Lauren scores her fingernails up Tamsin's back sharply. Lauren flicks the clasp of her bra open and runs her nails around to the front. Tamsin's eyes shut and her lips part as Lauren palms her breasts roughly. 

When Lauren pushes her hands up, Tamsin grabs at the fabric of her shirt and pulls it up over her head, tosses her bra... somewhere. Lauren runs her teeth over a nipple and sucks, nails sliding between Tamsin's shoulders, and Tamsin moans, rocks forward. Lauren drops her hands down and presses her thumbs into the skin just inside her hipbones, and the muscles ripple, her hips jerk, her breath catches. There's heat radiating through Tamsin's jeans. 

Tamsin makes a sound that's almost a complaint, then breaks and presses down against Lauren, mouth going for her neck. She's rougher than Bo usually is with her--not that Bo never leaves marks--closes her mouth over Lauren's pulse like she's staking a claim, rakes her nails over Lauren's hips under her shirt, tugs at the button on her pants. Lauren fumbles; tries to help, and suddenly there's too many hands working at her pants. Somehow, though, they're gone in short order with no injuries. 

It's fine. Lauren knows who's on top, now. The hardness has almost vanished from Tamsin's face, as she throws the clothes somewhere else and spreads Lauren's legs, settles one around her waist. Runs the fingers of one hand up and down the insides of Lauren's thighs, digs her fingertips in until Lauren gasps, arches. There's a spark of that bright hardness again, but it disappears, when her fingers slide behind the lace of Lauren's underwear and slip easily along the skin there. Clumsy--she didn't realize how _wet_ playing with Tamsin was getting her--and tentative. Almost gentle. Tamsin looks at her questioningly. Lauren urges her with her hips, looks at her through her eyelashes. She hasn't earned begging yet. "Is this--?" Tamsin cuts off. 

"I won't break." Tamsin's look turns hungry. 

Lauren groans and her eyes fall shut when Tamsin presses two fingers inside her. Reaches up and tangles her hands in Tamsn's hair and pulls her down for a kiss; scratches down her shoulders and arches her back. It's immediate, rough, hard-- _god_ , Tamsin can fuck. And she could _let_ her and it'd be more than fine, but--

"Slower." She says, one hand closing around her elbow, the other with fingers wrapped around the back of her neck. Shifts her hips, tugs gently on her arm, guiding, arches her lower back just so--

Tamsin's fingers brush that spot inside her just right, and her hips jerk, breath catches. "--There." Tamsin's eyes darken and she leans in. 

The guiding hand Lauren has on Tamsin's arm turns into a grip, turns into nails digging urgently into her skin, gasps and groans catching in her throat as Tamsin adjusts and gets more confident. Lauren can't break Tamsin's gaze; can't look away from her eyes, narrowed and wide at the same time, how she bites her lower lip while she watches Lauren with an almost tender cunning. Like something feral. That's what draws those sounds out of her throat, rocks her hips involuntarily against Tamsin's hand. 

She has to close her eyes; she can feel it coming. Her head falls back, and then Tamsin's mouth is on her throat, hot and sharp and soft at the same time. Tentative; but even then, she's so _strong_. That's what does it, finally. Tamsin makes a sound against her neck as Lauren's body clenches around her fingers, and Lauren goes momentarily senseless. All she feels is Tamsin inside her. 

Even before she opens her eyes again, Lauren traces her fingers back up Tamsin's arm, up over her shoulder, feeling the muscles sliding under her skin, the plane of her back without clothing to break the line of it. Tamsin kisses her, now, like she knows what she's doing. Slow and deep. Like she might just fall into Lauren. 

She likes it when Lauren leaves angry red lines on her skin with her nails. Her muscles tense, she stiffens, and her lip curls ever so slightly. She shudders and her head drops a little bit every time Lauren scores her nails between Tamsin's shoulder blades. But Lauren's fascinated by the way Tamsin softens against her, bit by bit, with every inch of skin that they manage to slide together. Every inch Lauren soothes with her fingertips. Her body gives until the heated skin of her front brushes against Lauren's and her hands clutch hesitantly at the couch cushions, like they did earlier. Her breath catches when Lauren runs her nails down over her breasts again. She's still wearing pants. They're going to have to change that. 

Speaking of. God, she's hot through her jeans. And the touch, the pressure of Lauren's fingers along the seam, gets a sound out of her, a low groan, and that's all the encouragement Lauren needs to slide her fingers just under the waistband of Tamsin's jeans again. Curls her fingers against the hot-damp skin there and drags. Tamsin's hips arch; she gasps, stretches. One hand goes to the fly of her jeans, clumsy. Skinny jeans, so together they manage to peel them down just far enough before Tamsin's hand drops back to the couch and her eyes shut and that's Lauren's cue. 

Tamsin's breath catches against Lauren's lips. Her hips press down, and her mouth collides with Lauren's again. They stay like that, Tamsin rocking against Lauren's hand, braced over her, Lauren working deeper inside her, barely breaking for air. Tamsin's eyes are still closed. 

Slowly, she tightens on Lauren's hand. Her breathing rises until she's breaking for air and she raises one hand to Lauren's face, fingers curling against Lauren's skin when a tremor runs through them. Until her back curves catlike and she's pushing down, small shivers running through her body. Until she makes soft sounds every time their mouths come apart, and loses others against Lauren's tongue. Finally, she breaks off, grabs at the back of the couch to steady herself, and shudders, hips grinding down, pushing Lauren's fingers even deeper while she clenches. 

Lauren doesn't _just_ watch, but she can't take her eyes off Tamsin. How her whole body tenses and her mouth opens and a low sound comes up out of her throat and how does someone who _makes_ sounds like that seem so lonely? She pulls back and curls in on herself slightly, and some of that's just the contraction of her abdominals, but it strikes Lauren how much she looks like she's in pain. Protecting herself. She watches Tamsin come, _Tamsin_ , on _her_ hand, and wonders why she was ever so scared of her, because all she wants to do right now is touch her until some of that ache smooths away. She wonders if Bo notices. Probably not--it's not her strong suit. Especially not lately. 

She tamps down on the urge to get even gentler with her. It would probably confuse Tamsin as much as the urge confuses Lauren. So instead of letting her come down, she keeps going, until Tamsin shudders again, and pushes Lauen's hand away. 

Lauren watches Tamsin put herself back together, eyes still shut, and pretends not to see. She's had plenty of practice, with Bo. 

Tamsin's eyes flutter open, bright and deep at the same time, a cocky, hedonistic smirk teasing at the corners of her mouth, and Lauren feels another surge of want move through her. _Fuck_. How is she still getting _wetter_? 

"Damn, doc." She purrs, all sex and confidence, but it's different, now that she's heard Tamsin come. 

"Y'know, you _can_ call me Lauren." 

"Please. That's more vanilla than white cake with store-bought frosting." Tamsin runs one finger lazily over Lauren's collarbone, rough around a nipple. Lauren closes her eyes briefly at the jolt that sends to her clit. 

"Because "doc" is the most original nickname. No one's ever called me _that_ before." 

"Okay, _Laur_." 

Lauren winces. "Call me doc." 

Turns out she'd rather just pin Lauren down by her wrists and leave bite marks on her neck. Whatever helps. She kisses down Lauren's chest and stomach, and Lauren shivers and arches against her mouth when she lingers around her hip, leaving hickeys everywhere. The ripple of her hips grows insistent. 

"Nuh-uh," she breaks away, shaking her head, voice rough and eyes dark, but with a hint of that hedonistic smile. "I heard what you did to the Morrígan. Not unless Bo goes first." 

Who, having just entered the house, lets out a noise that manages to sound like liquid sex and pure confusion at the same time. 

Lauren tries to sit up while Tamsin tries to dismount, and they both end up sliding onto the floor in a heap, one of Lauren's legs trapped under Tamsin's body. "Ow!" 

Tamsin grumbles something that Lauren doesn't hear because she's too busy panicking. They've never talked about this--though, Bo's certainly not-so-subtly suggested they have a threesome before, but it was Lauren who nixed that when she made that stupid rule about not wanting to know anything, but that was _before_ they broke up--

There's a sound from behind the couch, and the click of heels, and Lauren looks up, confused and worried, to see Bo leaning over it, looking down at them, laughing silently into the back of her hand. She's relieved, at first, until the laughter continues, builds until Bo's doubled over with tears streaming down her face. 

"Hey!" Lauren says, and looks at Tamsin when she hears Tamsin echo it. Tamsin looks about as indignant as Lauren feels. 

"I'm so sorry." Bo gasps out when she can get a breath. "Are you two okay?" 

"Fine." Tamsin grumbles. Bo looks at Lauren, biting her lip to hold in the laughter. 

"... Also fine." Lauren finishes awkwardly. 

"I love you both?" Bo offers sheepishly. "I'm sorry I'm so late. And about the miscommunication." Tamsin grumbles again, and Lauren can _feel_ her eyeroll from here, but she can also feel Tamsin stiffen against her. Reflexively, she traces her fingertips over Tamsin's skin, soothing. Lauren freezes, and both of them look at Lauren's hand on Tamsin's skin, then at each other. She looks up in time to catch Bo's face in an unreadable look. Finally, she quirks an eyebrow. 

"I didn't realize you two were gonna start the party without me." She says, and this could go a lot of places. Probably should handle this carefully. 

"Dude, you're like, six hours late." Or Tamsin could just... not. Careful. At all. 

Miraculously, the tension drains out of Bo, and she sighs, pouting. "Fair point. I'm really sorry about that. But what I _really_ want to know is--" Her eyes take in the shape of their bodies, flushed, disheveled, tangled on the floor, and flare blue, and relief and another wave of want--this one so much more tidal--washes through Lauren. And does that tremor just run through one of them, or both of them? She can feel it where her body touches Tamsin's. "--d'you care if I join?"


End file.
